“what the fuck,” liam says, eyes full of fear, “is this?”
louis frowns from where he’s tucked against harry’s side, considering. the thing liam is holding looksto be their extra large anal beads they’d bought on a whim last summer, used twice, and then forgotten about.
“anal beads, i think,” louis responds, smiling up at harry. he loved their kinky shit. “they looked so good comin’ out of your arse, babe.”
harry curls his fingers into louis’s shoulder with a grin, “i couldn’t sit for days. it was beautiful.“
liam chokes, dropping the beads on the floor and slamming the oven back closed. louis would have wondered why the beads were even in the oven, but he was distracted by harry suddenly wriggling on top of his lap.
louis and harry have always been strangely open with their sex life, which probably came from being brought up in two very liberal households, respectively.
harry had always asked his mum questions when he was younger, stuff like why he was so obsessed with how nice bananas were ("well, harry, some boys like boys, and you seem to be one of them. it’s perfectly normal. make sure to be safe, use a condom, and get tested regularly.”), and louis’s mum had never left him without some tidbit of uncomfortable advice (“never ever blow in someone’s arsehole, louis. you might rupture something.”)
it had gotten worse when they met at the x factor, both mums coming together and buying the boys sex books and guides on how to be safe and telling them that consent was always necessary.
now, it seems to have extended to them both, to the point where if any of the boys make even a vague innuendo they (loudly) reminisce about the various times they’ve fucked in closets. (“a beautiful irony,” louis had declared the first time it had happened, jeans still halfway down his arse, “just beautiful!”)
it’s probably why, when niall is innocently digging into the sofa cushions to find the last of his crisps and instead finds a bejewelled buttplug, they don’t hesitate to launch into the story.
“well, you see, i really like louis’s glasses. he always looks like a hot teacher-”
“that’s why he calls me sir!” louis trills, smiling up at his boy whilst harry just grins cheekily back.
“-anyway, he looks really hot, and i decided he deserved a treat, because he wrote no control and all. and i opened myself and put this in, because i’d bought it without him knowing, and gave him a lapdance. and when he felt it, he spanked me until i was trembling, and pulled it out. it must have fell into the cushions, or something, because we didn’t see it again. we were too caught up in the act.”
niall suddenly looks horrified, dropping the buttplug and watching as it rolls away.
“you mean,” he chokes, and his eyes look to be full of tears, “that hasn’t been fucking washed since it was up your arse!”
harry pouts, and louis glares. harry’s arse is phenominally clean -louis would know.
“don’t talk about his arse like it’s a bad thing, niall! i’m very proud of it.”
still, they make sure to wash the pink plug as soon as niall leaves.
the third and final time it happens, they’ve just stopped fucking in the studio, and zayn’s walked in, arms full of takeaway boxes.
“thanks, mate. need to keep our energy up.” louis pokes harry in the dimple, still trying to regain his own breath from moment before when harry had been rocking back onto his cock.
zayn’s eyes suddenly widen, as if horrified. louis wishes this would stop happening, that they stopped acting like sex was such a massive deal.
“is that a fucking cock ring.” he deadpans, staring at what, yes, is definitely a fallen warrior from the two lovers’ sex toy stash.
they hadn’t even gotten to use it. they’d both been too worked up from writing songs about sucking cock.
“poor thing,” harry mumbles, picking it off the floor, “probably just wants somewhere warm.”
louis has to hold zayn up before he faints, but it’s honestly worth it. as long as they get to show that sex is healthy, that’s all that matters. (also, their boys’ horrified faces are fucking hilarious).